


To All the Dark Things in the World

by manic_intent



Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, M/M, Spoilers for Act 1, That AU where Jin dies on the beach, and comes back as something else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25586944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: The stories share the same beginning: the man known as Sakai Jin died on Komoda beach in defence of Tsushima, too old for forgiveness and too young for regrets.
Relationships: Ryuzo/Sakai Jin, Sakai Jin/Ryuzo
Comments: 32
Kudos: 348





	To All the Dark Things in the World

**Author's Note:**

> There aren’t traditional Japanese vampires, but they do have a surprising number of very specific spirits (including one which hangs out in a toilet and offers you red or blue toilet paper? Now that’s a choice I like. No futzing around about pills XD;;). This is not a story about a doomed toilet paper ghost, more of a sort-of goryō story. Spoilers for Act 1.
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The stories share the same beginning: the man known as Sakai Jin died on Komoda beach in defence of Tsushima, too old for forgiveness and too young for regrets. The thing that returned in his place has been given several names since: goryō, onryō, yurei, kyūketsuki, jikininki. A monster or a protector, depending on the person you asked; and their answer might surprise you. That kindred beasts of violence had sprung from the bloody jowls of the beast that was total war—now, _that_ part surprised no one.

#

The desperate woman on the cart of supplies had a steel spine, that much Ryuzo would concede. He motioned for the Straw Hats around him to fall back, easing his hand away from his katana and holding up his palms. “You’ve got our attention. What’s your name?”

“Yuna,” Yuna said, the torch she held hovering dangerously next to what looked like a week’s worth of food. “I’m here to make a bargain with the leader of the Straw Hat Ronin. Is that you, or am I wasting my breath? I warn you; if you threaten me again or try to cheat me, I’ll burn all this food rather than let you get any of it.”

“Our leader died on Komoda beach,” Ryuzo said, with a nod at the men behind him—none of them unscathed. “I’ll do. Who do you want killed?”

Yuna let out a dry, hoarse laugh. Here was a woman beyond fear and exhaustion, with almost nothing left to lose. Before she could speak, Ryuzo asked, “Or rescued?” 

The hand holding the torch trembled. The starving men behind Ryuzo muttered to themselves, but he held up his palm to quiet them. “My brother,” Yuna said, gesturing at the coastline. “He’s been captured by the Mongols. Held at a prison camp to the east.”

One of the Straw Hats huffed. “I’m sorry,” Ryuzo said with reluctance. “Direct confrontation with the Mongols is something we’d prefer to avoid for now. I can count the number of fighting-fit men on the fingers of one hand.” 

“That’s all I need. I’ve got a distraction penned up. Help me lure it to the camp. Once the fun starts, we can slip in, open the cages, and slip out.” 

Ryuzo frowned. “A distraction? A bear?” 

Yuna smiled. It was a hard, wild, merciless smile. “Something better. A monster.” 

This sounded less and less promising. “Let me take a look at this monster. Drive out the cart with me and—”

“There’s medicine in here, and you’ve got badly injured people. Take it. As a gesture of goodwill.” 

“What if we can’t help you?”

Yuna stared him coldly in the eyes. “Then you’ll owe me, and I always, always find a way to collect my debts.”

#

A monk in muddied robes knelt beside a small storage shed, its single entry strung shut with ropes nailed to the frame and hung with hastily-scrawled talismans. The monk scrambled to his feet as Yuna and Ryuzo rode up, looking anxiously between them. “You return,” he told Yuna.

“I said I would.” Yuna got off her horse, the animal snorting and rolling its eyes. Even Ryuzo’s backed away a step, whinnying as it shifted uneasily beneath him. “Tie your horse, or it’ll bolt.” 

Ryuzo tied the horse to a nearby tree, peering at the shed. The cloudless night cast the interior of the building in deep shadow, the light from the torches outlining dusty old storage containers and tools. Something inside stirred as he walked cautiously closer.

“Careful,” Yuna warned. “The charms help, but I wouldn’t get that close. Found Junshin here with his friends wandering Komoda Beach.” She laughed bitterly. “As was I. Different reasons. Same result.” 

“What were you both doing there?” Ryuzo asked. 

“My brothers and I hoped to calm the souls of the violently dead,” Junshin said, with a nervous glance at the shed. “We were too late.” 

“I think we were just in time,” Yuna said, with another ugly laugh. “Careful. There’s a reason why Junshin’s the only monk left.” 

“…Very funny,” Ryuzo said, stalking over to the shed. “Nice set-up too, with the talismans and the monk. Unfortunately for you, I’ve been playing pranks on my friends since I could walk, and I’ve done something like this before.” 

A shadow detached itself from the void behind the containers, shambling forward with a guttural snarl. Ryuzo stiffened, his hand jumping to the hilt of his katana, then he gawked. “ _Jin_?” 

It _was_ Jin, his red and black clan armour missing one of the sode, the dō cracked like an egg, the haidate encrusted with dried blood. Blood covered Jin’s mouth and throat and coated his hands to his elbows. He stood hunched, his gaze unfocused. Furious, Ryuzo rounded on Yuna and Junshin. “Why are you keeping him here like this? He needs medical attention!” 

“That’s what we thought at first. He’s well beyond that now,” Yuna said. She frowned at Ryuzo. “You knew him? I’m sorry.” 

“I take back what I said. This isn’t funny at all.” Ryuzo drew his katana and cut through the ropes. “Jin—”

Jin snarled and struck, viper-quick. Ryuzo’s back hit the grass, Jin’s hand clawed in his cheek, shoving his head aside to bare his throat. Ryuzo yelled in pained shock as sharp teeth tore into his neck, latching on. He snatched the tanto from his obi and stabbed it into a gap in Jin’s armour. Jin didn’t even flinch. Dimly, Ryuzo could hear the monk shouting, of Yuna drawing her bow. 

With a cough, Jin jerked up, wiping his mouth and blinking until his gaze focused down on Ryuzo. “Wha… Ryuzo?” He coughed again, choking, then he scrambled off Ryuzo to the grass, vomiting a black, viscous substance into the weeds. Ryuzo staggered to his feet, gawking. His tanto still stuck out of Jin’s back. 

“What in the world?” Ryuzo looked blankly at Yuna. “What happened to him?” 

“I told you. He died on Komoda beach,” Yuna said with a grim curl to her mouth. She didn’t lower her bow. “Now he’s something else.”

“A goryō,” Junshin said from where he’d retreated behind the horses. “A vengeful spirit.”

“Are spirits usually this solid?” Ryuzo said, gingerly touching his throbbing neck, his fingers coming away bloody. “Shit!”

“You got him to talk. That’s something new.” Yuna glanced between Jin and Ryuzo. “Good. If we don’t have to lure him into the Mongol camp, that makes things easier.” 

“…Give me a few minutes,” Ryuzo said, pinching himself. Not a dream. “And get something for my neck from my saddlebags.”

#

For a goryō, or whatever he was now, Jin followed Ryuzo meekly enough as Ryuzo led him behind the abandoned farmhouse beside the shed. He grimaced as Ryuzo pulled the tanto from his back. No blood on the blade. That finally convinced Ryuzo of this nightmare. “Jin. I’m so sorry.”

Jin made a strangled, hollow sound, rubbing his hand over his face. “I didn’t think death was meant to be like this.”

“Coming back as a vengeful ghost?” Only Jin. Surreal as the situation was, deep down, Ryuzo couldn’t say he was entirely surprised. There’d always been an unyielding core to his childhood friend, a ruthless determination to win at all costs. Ryuzo should know. He’d seen it firsthand himself.

“Not that. Cold. It’s so cold.” Jin’s hands twitched by his sides. “I don’t even remember… I was bleeding out on the beach. The Mongols took my uncle away. Does he live?”

“The last I heard, the Khan’s keeping him captive in Castle Kaneda,” Ryuzo said. 

“We need to rescue him. They could be torturing him. Worse.” 

Ryuzo laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head. “‘We’? My men and I were at Komoda Beach. Nearly didn’t survive the experience. We’re in no shape to rescue anyone from a fortified castle.” 

“Your men?” Jin frowned. 

“The Straw Hat ronin.”

“You became one of the ronin?” Jin said, aghast. “Ryuzo.” 

“Dead people don’t get to lecture the living on what they have to do to eat. We weren’t all born sons to daimyo clans,” Ryuzo snapped, with more heat than he’d intended. Jin jerked back a step and ducked his head, abashed. 

“I’m sorry.” Jin glanced at Ryuzo’s neck and looked away again, shivering. “I’m sorry for attacking you as well.” 

“I wasn’t the only one you did. I’m fairly sure you ate some monks before Yuna and Junshin out there managed to trap you in a shed,” Ryuzo said. Better to let Jin know all at once. 

Jin’s gaze snapped up to his, horrified. He sank onto his knees with a strangled sob, pressing his face into his hands. “No… no.”

“I don’t think you meant it,” Ryuzo conceded uncomfortably. Seeing Jin like this ached, somehow. Ached more than it should, for people who’d been strangers for three years, and drifting apart long before that.

“They. _You_ could end this,” Jin said, looking up hopefully. “Cut my head off.” 

“Would that ‘end’ this or would you just end up in two pieces?” Ryuzo said, folding his arms. “If you’re truly now a vengeful spirit, you came back because you have unfinished business. I’m going to hazard a guess and say it’s your uncle. Get up. Yuna’s paid me to save her brother, and you’re going to help. After that, feel free to assault Castle Kaneda.”

Jin stared at his hands. “What if I hurt someone else?” 

“The Mongols? I thought that was the point.”

“You know what I meant,” Jin said, death not having improved his sense of humour. 

“I’ll stop you,” Ryuzo promised. A false promise, perhaps, given what Jin could do even in life. It worked. Jin closed his eyes, teeth clenched. He nodded and got to his feet.

#

Whatever Jin was doing to terrorise the Mongols at the front of the camp, Ryuzo wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Screams rent the air. Creeping through the tall grass with Yuna, Ryuzo could see men in full armour fleeing for the forest in total panic. They squeezed through a gap in the hastily-erected wooden palisade, hiding behind a round tent as the Mongols close by shot up from their cooking fire and rushed off to investigate. Beside him, Yuna gestured to the right of the camp, where a cage could be seen behind a wagon of supplies. Ryuzo nodded.

The first cage contained Daiki, of all people. The Straw Hat started to his feet in surprise as he recognised Ryuzo, glancing between him and Yuna. “So you live,” Daiki whispered as Ryuzo fumbled with the crude lock. Easy enough to pick with the edge of a dagger. “I didn’t think anyone was left to come for me.”

“I didn’t,” Ryuzo admitted as he pulled the door open and clasped Daiki’s hand. “I didn’t know you got caught. I thought you were dead. Are there any of the others? Akio?”

“If there were other survivors who got caught, they’re not here.” Daiki glanced up as someone screamed so loudly that his voice cracked. “What on earth is happening? Are the others here? That’s some distraction, whatever it is.” 

“I’ll explain later. Help me with the other cages. Our new client’s looking for her brother,” Ryuzo said, nodding at Yuna, who peered hopefully into another cage. Daiki raised his eyebrows but nodded and went to work. 

As they let out the last unlucky captive and snuck out of the camp to a safe distance, Yuna let out a frustrated sigh. “Taka isn’t here.” She turned anxiously to Daiki. “Did you see anyone about this tall? A blacksmith? About my age? He would’ve been wearing yellow clothes.” 

Daiki nodded. “The Mongols singled out the blacksmiths and fishermen to take to Azamo Bay as slaves.” 

Yuna moaned, hugging herself. “No.” 

“Shit. That place’s already well-fortified. With an army occupying it, it’d be impossible to get into.” Ryuzo looked at Yuna. “Sorry.” 

“You’re the Straw Hats, aren’t you? The most famous ronin band on Tsushima. Can’t you think of a way?” Yuna demanded. She pointed behind Ryuzo’s shoulder. “Especially since we have him?” 

Daiki turned and gasped, backing off and grasping the hilt of his katana. Ryuzo took in a slow breath and forced himself to look. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed, then it was. The dark stains over Jin’s armour looked like paint until you noticed the stink of blood and gore, and his face and throat were soaked with it. As they watched, a deep gash along his thigh began to seal itself, the exposed bone in his twisted ankle slipping back into place under his skin, his gait straightening as it did. The peasants with them screamed and bolted for the forest. Jin watched them go with an awfully blank gaze.

“Jin.” It took all of Ryuzo’s self-control not to reach for his katana. “Jin?” 

“It’s done,” Jin said in a numb voice, coming to a stop. “The way I killed them…” He let out a low sob and sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t go on like this. Ryuzo, _help me_.” 

“I will,” Ryuzo said, swallowing hard. “I’ll find a way, but. Jin, you must have returned for a reason.”

“Why didn’t the others come back too?” Jin demanded. Tears cut pale tracks down over his bloodied face. “Why didn’t Lord Adachi? The Khan burned him alive when he tried to issue a challenge. Why didn’t his sons? Or any of the rest?” 

“Because you’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever known and a part of me’s absolutely unsurprised that this has happened,” Ryuzo said, throwing up his hands. “That you wouldn’t even let death stop you. Use it. Other than Lord Shimura, all the samurai are dead. The island’s defenceless.” 

Jin made a frustrated sound. He glanced at Yuna as he got to his feet. “Your brother?”

“Azamo Bay,” Yuna said. She stared back at him evenly. “The Mongols are penning slaves there. Help me. That’s what you came back to do, isn’t it? Help Tsushima?” 

“I don’t know why I came back,” Jin said. He clenched his fists tightly, looking wearily over his shoulder. “I know I have to save my uncle.” 

“What if he’s your unfinished business? If whatever you are now stops once he’s rescued?” Yuna countered. 

“Then he’d free Azamo Bay and your brother,” Jin said, with the conviction of a true believer. 

Daiki coughed. Ryuzo said, “Speaking as survivors of Komoda Beach, let’s say we have standing doubts over the workability of Lord Shimura’s anti-Mongol tactics.” Jin glared at him, but under Ryuzo’s flat stare, he dropped his gaze.

“What then?” Jin asked. He gestured in the direction of the castle. “The Mongols might be torturing him right now. Or worse.”

“Would he hold out better than peasants? Than my brother? All of whom aren’t samurai, who haven’t trained all their lives for war?” Yuna hissed. Jin wouldn’t look at her. “I thought so. Help me. In return, when you go to rescue your uncle, I’ll come with you.” 

Jin looked to Ryuzo. “What about you?” 

“A frontal assault on Azamo Bay’s impossible, but if there’s a way to open the doors and start a distraction, a disciplined force could do what Yuna and I just did here,” Ryuzo conceded. He smiled sharply at Yuna. “If the client pays.” 

She snorted. “I’ll see what I can do,” Yuna said, stalking off through the grass. 

“I’ll head to Azamo Bay to have a look,” Daiki said, with a nod at Ryuzo. “Good luck.” He avoided looking at Jin as he walked away. 

Which left Ryuzo and Jin standing awkwardly together. Ryuzo looked up at the moonless sky and exhaled. He couldn’t take Jin back to camp looking like this: his men would probably desert, and he wouldn’t even be able to blame them. “Let’s. Find a way to get you cleaned up.”

#

Washed up and dressed in a spare set of Ryuzo’s ronin clothes, Jin could pass for human on a glance. No hiding the pallor of his skin, though. Or the reddish tint that his eyes took on when he walked near a light source. Jin knelt by the hearth of the derelict old house and looked curiously at the shelves. Not many trophies from three years in the ronin. Some personal effects from before that, though. Jin’s gaze lingered over a dusty old bokken, then a child’s training bow. A blunt old yanagi ba, the willow-blade knife not having seen much use over the last year.

“I haven’t seen you since the duel,” Jin said as Ryuzo boiled water from the stream. He’d taken some soba noodles from Yuna’s supplies when he’d gone back to the camp to get a set of spare clothes and tell everyone to lie low. 

“We were busy,” Ryuzo said. 

Jin’s hands twitched on his lap. They did that now and then, curling into claws. Ryuzo wasn’t sure if Jin was conscious of it. “Why didn’t you come to me? I could’ve made you one of my clan kashindan.” 

“Spite, I think.”

“You were angry that you lost?” 

“I’d been angry for a while before that.” 

“With me?” Jin said. He looked hurt. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. That’s the most annoying part about it all,” Ryuzo said with a dry laugh. “You just… were. Born to Clan Sakai, the future heir to Clan Shimura. A natural talent at the bow and blade, a fine horseman, handsome, admired by everyone. Even the godsdamned foxes and birds. Do you know how annoying it was to be your friend?” Ryuzo shook his head as Jin looked bewildered. “Never mind. You’re dead; I’m not. I’m sorry.”

“Do you wish we’d never met?”

“No,” Ryuzo admitted. He might have resented Jin for years even before the duel that had ruined his chances of employment with the other samurai lords, but he’d never regretted knowing Jin. They’d been part of each other’s lives for longer than they’d been apart. 

Jin stared at his hands. “I lived a lonely life. My mother passed early. My father grew distant, even before he passed. My uncle tried, but he had little time for children. Often, it felt like I had no one. I was born to a life of privilege, but it was empty. Until you. These years without you… I regret those.” 

Ryuzo’s eyes grew hot. He hid it by making himself dinner, cooking the soba noodles and pouring out some of his last stores of soy into a bowl. “Are you hungry?” Ryuzo asked gruffly as he scooped out the noodles. 

“Not for this.” Jin’s gaze flicked to the bandages on Ryuzo’s neck. 

Ryuzo tried not to tense up. “Jin.”

Jin’s hands twitched. “I’m in control.” 

“I hope so. I’d rather not wake up to you chewing on my throat.” Ryuzo forced a laugh. “I never realised I was that tasty. Or not? Given you ate the monks but came to your senses when you bit me.” 

Jin's face took on a strained cast. “No jokes about this. Please.” 

“I suppose since you went through most of that camp, you probably shouldn’t be hungry.” 

“Doesn’t it disgust you?” Jin asked, watching him closely. “What I’ve become?” 

“You had no choice about any of it,” Ryuzo said, though he _was_ surprised that he still had the stomach for food. They’d buried Jin’s armour behind the derelict house: it was beyond salvage. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“Do you want me to?” Ryuzo asked, finishing the rest of his noodles and rinsing the bowls in the boiled water. His loosely-bound yukata fell further open to his belly, and he absently tugged it closed. Jin swallowed hard, covering his mouth with his sleeve, the hand on his lap tightening into a fist. 

“I’m going to take a walk,” Jin said, getting to his feet. “Get some rest.”

#

Ryuzo found Jin standing close to the pyre of bodies piled at the burnt section of houses near the main gate. More dead Mongol bodies were being carried out and thrown onto the fire after being stripped of their armour and weapons. The bodies of murdered villagers would be buried further out of the port where the ground was softer. The Straw Hats and peasants working to clear out the corpses gave Jin a wide berth. Ryuzo couldn’t blame them: Jin looked a fright, a bloodied, silent revenant bearing witness to his work.

“You ruined my spare clothes,” Ryuzo said. 

Jin let out a startled laugh. He started to speak, hesitated, and shook his head. “Your tactics ruined your spare clothes.” 

“They worked.” Yuna had managed to get herself and Ryuzo into the city through a sake seller, of all people. They’d opened the gate to let Jin in and snuck off to look for the captives while the Mongols engaged Jin with the Straw Hats providing cover fire. It’d been a risk: the Mongols were known to kill their prisoners if attacked—but Ryuzo had banked on Jin spreading enough fear for that tactic to hopefully be an afterthought. 

“How’s Taka?” Jin asked.

“Traumatised. Wasn’t happy about staying in Azamo Bay, same as some of the others. Told them they were free to go if they wanted, but that we’re staying here.” Fortified port, ample fishing and fishermen—as long as the Mongols didn’t attack with their full army, the Straw Hats could hold the town comfortably. “As could you.”

Jin shook his head. “My uncle.” 

“Taka said he had an idea that might help you get into the castle, but frankly, Castle Kaneda isn’t Azamo Bay.” 

“Will you help me?”

Ryuzo wrinkled his nose. The stench of burning hair and flesh from the pyre was intense. “What happens if you free your uncle and just. Fall over on the spot?”

“I’ll count it a fair trade. More than fair.” Jin’s hands curled into claws. “I don’t want to be like this. Will you help me?” 

Straw Hats tossed the last body onto the fire and backed away. Ryuzo sighed. “All right. Yes. You’ve helped us gain a fortified foothold in Tsushima. I’ll help. Along with whoever might want to come.” Given the open fear with which some of the Straw Hats had regarded Jin once they’d realised what he was, Ryuzo wasn’t sure how many that would be.

Jin nodded. “Thank you.” 

“For now, we should find you some new clothes. Or at least soak you in the bay.”

“What’s the point?” Jin gestured curtly at the burning bodies. “I’m little more than that.” 

“I’d say you’re a lot more, given you’re the reason why we’re burning those bodies instead of the villagers’,” Ryuzo said. He grabbed Jin’s arm as Jin shivered. “Come.”

#

“Do we have the time?” Jin said as Ryuzo brought him to a tucked-away onsen close to a stream.

“I always have the time,” Ryuzo said. Jin chuckled, the kindest sound he’d made recently. They washed the best they could in the stream, scrubbed their clothes, and strung them out to dry close to a fire before settling into the onsen for a soak. Jin closed his eyes—he tended to use the time to think. Ryuzo preferred to drink, but he hadn’t had sake since before Komoda. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jin asked without opening his eyes.

“Sake,” Ryuzo said. Jin chuckled again. “You?” Ryuzo asked.

Jin rolled his shoulders. “You.” 

“Oh?” Ryuzo shifted closer to Jin in the spring. “Do share.” When Jin shook his head, Ryuzo said, “You’re already dead, you might as well get it off your chest. Besides, I’d bet that nothing you’re going to say will shock me.” 

“I still need your help, so. No.”

“Now I’m really curious. I promise you’d have my help no matter what it is. What _is_ it, hm? Did I sleep with some woman you liked?”

Jin flinched, glaring at him. “What? No!” 

Ryuzo burst out laughing. “I thought that might rile you—”

“I love you,” Jin said. He closed his eyes again as Ryuzo stared at him in shock. They sat in silence for the rest of the soak. 

As they rinsed off again in the stream, Ryuzo said, “You’re not joking.”

“I don’t joke. Especially not about something like that.” 

“You don’t… I seriously…” Ryuzo started chuckling again, helpless to stop. Jin gave him a wary stare but said nothing, crossing out of the stream to get to their drying clothes. Ryuzo grabbed at his wrist and ended up pulled off balance by Jin’s new unholy strength. He went sprawling with a yelp, awkwardly falling into a heap on top of Jin, who went very still.

“Ryuzo,” Jin whispered. He stared at the new scars on Ryuzo’s throat. 

“Why? Thirsty?” Ryuzo asked, low and husky. 

Jin shuddered. “Don’t.” 

“It was a serious question.” Ryuzo nuzzled Jin’s ear. “You’re still warm. From the onsen.” 

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not. We grew up together. You should be able to tell when I’m making fun of you.” 

“What, then?” Jin looked up, lost and hurt and a little hopeful. “What is this? Pity? I don’t want that from you.” 

“Does it need to be more than what it looks like?” Ryuzo asked. 

There’d always been a part of him that dared everything, even the taboo. It was the part that had him lean down to kiss Jin, to run his tongue carefully over the unsettlingly sharp teeth in Jin’s mouth. Jin didn’t taste like anything, to Ryuzo’s relief. He’d been expecting worse. Jin’s fingers tickled over Ryuzo’s shoulders, down his back, colder than they should be. As they kissed, Jin began to shake, until with a gasp he tore away and buried his head in Ryuzo’s shoulder. Sobs heaved out of in him great wracking waves, each a tremor that ran through his cooling body. Ryuzo murmured nonsense words into Jin’s hair, holding him close as they lay on the grass, each mourning all that they could have been.

#

The Khan rode north. Afraid, perhaps. News of Jin had spread, of a vengeful undying creature returned from the dead to kill the invaders. Discipline at Castle Kaneda was poor enough that they managed to fight to the bridge with less effort than Ryuzo thought. Some fled in terror, leaping off the bridge rather than face a revenant that healed before their eyes, that could get up again and again when struck down. Jin picked up speed as they got to the main tower, becoming akin to a divine weapon, a shinigami reaping his way floor by floor. Ryuzo could only follow, his men falling back to hold the courtyard.

As they got to the top floor, Lord Shimura started to his feet within the makeshift cell that his room had been turned into. He looked between them, surprised. “Ryuzo… _Jin_.” 

Jin struck the lock from the door with a single blow and staggered back, falling to his knees. “Jin!” Lord Shimura swept out of the cell. He stiffened as Ryuzo held him back, blade drawn. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. 

“Wait.” Ryuzo advanced cautiously on Jin. “Are you…?” 

“I thought it’d be over,” Jin said, his eyes squeezed shut. Tears ran down his cheeks. 

Lord Shimura began to speak and hesitated, blinking, as he noticed the deep gash across Jin’s chest closing. “So it is true,” he said slowly, sounding older than his years. “I hoped the Khan was lying.” 

“I’m sorry, uncle,” Jin whispered. 

“I’m the one who is sorry,” Lord Shimura said, falling to his knees before Jin. “My son, my _son_.” 

Ryuzo left them to their grief. He found Yuna on the ground floor, poking around the shelves with a thief’s professional curiosity. “I’d be quick, if I were you. The lord of the castle is back,” Ryuzo said.

“Just having a look. I’ve never been in a place this nice before.” Yuna glanced at him. “Jin?”

“Still here. His work isn’t finished, I guess. Maybe he has to kill the Khan.” 

“Maybe.” Yuna’s hard-eyed face softened a little. “Poor Jin! Well, at least he saved his uncle.” 

“For now,” Ryuzo said, not having much confidence so far in Lord Shimura surviving any further clashes with the Khan. “They might be a while. Tell you what. _I’ve_ been here before, and I know where they used to keep their sake. The Mongols might not yet have drunk it all.”

Yuna brightened up. “Now you’re talking.”

#

Jin found Ryuzo drinking in the small house he’d appropriated for himself in Azamo Bay. As he closed the shoji door behind him, Ryuzo said, “Your father’s armour suits you.”

“I shouldn’t be wearing it. Not in life. Not now. My uncle insisted.” Jin knelt beside Ryuzo, pulling off the scowling mask and his helmet, setting them aside. “Reinforcements are coming from the mainland. Once they’re here, we’ll attack Castle Shimura.”

“Good luck with all that,” Ryuzo said, tipping back his cup of sake and reaching for the cask. Jin pushed it aside with a frown. 

“I’d like you to join the muster,” Jin said. 

“I’m sure you would.” Ryuzo leaned forward, but Jin pushed the cask further away. “Jin.”

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me?” Ryuzo chuckled harshly. “Jin, I’m a mercenary. We don’t work for free.” 

“My uncle will—”

“So far, I haven’t seen him fulfil any of his promises. Not to me, or Yuna. Is that fair? Yuna’s desperate enough to keep working for him. I’m not. I like it here.”

Jin let out a frustrated sound. “After this war, you’ll be compensated. My uncle is a fair man.”

“That’s what you think,” Ryuzo said, sinking further down on his futon and setting the sake cup aside. 

“Why are you like this?” 

“I was in Kaneda when your uncle decided to invite several monks over to see if they could exorcise you, or whatever they were doing.” That hadn’t been pleasant to watch: talismans could still hurt Jin. Ryuzo had left them to it in disgust. “I’d rather not be there when something actually works. When you kill the Khan, or when some monk gets lucky, or whatever.” 

Jin’s scowl softened away. “Ryuzo. This—” he gestured at himself. “This is borrowed time. By the grace of the Gods, when my work is done—”

“Grace?” Ryuzo sniffed, closing his eyes. “Don’t make me laugh.” 

Jin kissed him. Ryuzo made a surprised sound as Jin climbed on top, heavy as he was in his armour. As they kissed, Ryuzo forgot himself, pricking his tongue on one of Jin’s sharp teeth. Jin gasped. Moaning, he clenched his hand in Ryuzo’s hair, sucking eagerly on his tongue.

“So that’s it.” Ryuzo began to laugh as Jin looked aside, embarrassed. “I’m tastier than the others.” 

“It feels good,” Jin mumbled. He shivered but stayed still as Ryuzo began to strip Jin of his armour, setting the pieces aside. Jin peeled Ryuzo’s yukata open, running his hands carefully up old and new scars, panting even though he didn’t need breath. His teeth distended his lips, and he pulled away as Ryuzo tried to kiss him. “I’ll bite,” Jin warned indistinctly. “Hungry.” 

“Good,” Ryuzo said. He pushed his fingers into Jin’s mouth as Jin gasped, deliberately pricking the pads on Jin’s teeth. Jin groaned, closing his eyes and sucking eagerly, loud and sloppy. He made a harsh noise as Ryuzo undid their fundoshi and pushed a thigh up between Jin’s legs to the swelling flesh at the apex. “Hm. Something still works. I was a little worried.” 

Jin glowered at him, grazing his teeth against Ryuzo’s knuckles. He growled as Ryuzo pulled his fingers away, bending to nip at the skin of Ryuzo’s chest, then bite when Ryuzo hummed, just hard enough to break the skin. Ryuzo gasped, bucking against Jin’s belly. Jin made an inquisitive sound as he looked up, licking Ryuzo clean. “You liked that?” Jin asked. 

“Isn’t that obvious?” Ryuzo pointedly rubbed his thickened cock against Jin. This was rapidly becoming less disconcerting than Ryuzo thought, when he’d considered it in passing during the nights after Kaneda, drinking alone. Jin rumbled something and bit again, lower, a little harder. He nipped his way down, marking Ryuzo’s skin, taking only a little each time, licking his lips as he got to Ryuzo’s cock. “Jin,” Ryuzo warned. 

“I know.” Jin swiped his tongue lazily up Ryuzo’s shaft, breathing him in. His eyes dilated as he lapped at the tip, closing his hands over the base and stroking. Ryuzo’s head fell back against the futon with a grunt, his hands tangling in Jin’s hair as Jin sucked him in, careful at first, then hungrily, taking in more and more until Ryuzo’s cock pressed against the back of Jin’s throat. Ryuzo shoved his fingers into his mouth to stifle his yell. Again, it wasn’t as strange as he thought it would be. Jin’s hands tucked under Ryuzo’s ass, urging him to buck, to take this gift as thoroughly as Jin wanted him to. 

“Jin,” Ryuzo gasped, “ _Jin_.” 

He thrust deeper, harder. Jin moaned each time Ryuzo buried himself, nosing into the curls at the base of Ryuzo’s cock. Ryuzo could almost taste the hunger bleeding off Jin, dense and palpable. He dug his fingers into Jin’s skull, clawed at the tense weight of his shoulders. Doing this with Jin did not feel remotely like closure. Pleasure felt more like something stolen, a curse that they were levelling at each other, one to bind them to a history they could have had, to better memories that they could never touch. Ryuzo groaned, pulling frantically at Jin’s shoulders as his hips began to stutter. Jin let up with reluctance, allowing himself to be guided up. He let out a disbelieving moan as Ryuzo pulled him down, pressing cold lips to a willing throat. As teeth bit deep, pain and lust and pleasure swept Ryuzo into a spiral, crying out as he raked his fingers over Jin’s back, trying to dig under his skin to the man who was still there.

#

Ryuzo woke to missing sake and an empty space beside him. The clan armour was still in pieces to the side, though, so he rubbed his jaw, absently made himself presentable, and got up to look for Jin.

The man he sought knelt at the threshold to the house, watching the sunrise, a cup of sake cradled in his hands. “Can you still drink?” Ryuzo asked. 

“I don’t think so. But I miss the scent.” Jin sniffed the cup. “Reminds me of you.” 

“Is that your way of telling me that I drink too much?” Ryuzo knelt beside Jin, stifling a yawn. Jin’s stare flicked to the reddened bite marks on Ryuzo’s throat and chest, visible through his half-open yukata. His teeth distended his lip as he looked back at the sun, hands twitching over the cup. Ryuzo took it from him and drank. 

“First thing in the morning?” Jin said, disapproving.

“You’re the one who poured out a cup. What was I to do, let you waste it?” Ryuzo leaned in and kissed Jin hard on the mouth. “There. Now you’ve had some too.” 

“You!” Jin said. His mouth tipped into a faint, wistful smile. “I wish—”

“Save it,” Ryuzo said, setting the cup aside. If this was all he got, maybe it was all he deserved. “I’ll talk to the others. See who wants to join the muster.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t bother. I doubt many will, and I’m not going to make a persuasive argument on your behalf.”

“I’ll speak for myself,” Jin said. He began to get up and hesitated as Ryuzo pressed a hand to his knee. 

“Sit with me for a while,” Ryuzo said. Jin began to speak, then thought better of it, turning back to the warming sky. He took the shakuhachi flute from his clothes, raising it to his lips. As the mournful tune wound through the air to the sky, the clouds gathered, darkening.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @manic_intent  
> my writing, prompt policy: https://manicintent.carrd.co/
> 
> You're meant to wash before you enter an onsen. Sometimes when I barrel straight into an onsen just minutes after murdering a patrol as Jin I kinda feel bad for everyone after me ^^;


End file.
